Follow the Cops Back Home
by castiel-holmes
Summary: Jack and Ianto are the only ones in the Hub the morning after the events of Small Worlds, and Jack is a little bitter and Ianto is the voice of reason.


Title: Follow the Cops Back Home

Rating: PG-13?

Pairing: Jack/Ianto

Summary: Post-Small Worlds. Why Ianto is the only one who doesn't blame Jack.

Disclaimer: Not mine, of course. Belongs to Russell T. Davies, BBC, etc. Song belongs to Placebo.

A/N: The Captain's Blog is a wonderful thing…(courtesy of the Torchwood website)

_The call to arms was never true  
I'm medicated how are you?  
Let's take a dive, swim right through  
Sophisticated points of view_

"_You shouldn't be here."_

"_Neither should you."_

As soon as he said it, he felt stupid. Of course Jack should be there, he lived there, unlike Ianto, who still felt compelled to come to work early and leave late (because it was his penance to serve, he thought) because, in the month he had been restricted to the tourist office, the work in the Archives had pile up. Still, he couldn't help feeling as thought he had accidentally told the truth as he hurried to the computer monitor; what sort of human being lived in the damp, dark basement of an organization already deep underground?

The hand on his shoulder was a little more forgiveness, but not forgiveness enough. The message came through loud and clear, "Your penance is no longer needed here," but Ianto wasn't ready for a clean (soul, a voice whispered) slate just yet.

As he cleaned up after the afternoon's meeting, he flashed back to the hand on his shoulder for the millionth time since the morning, to Jack's flippant statement only half an hour ago, _"What you do in private is none of our business,"_ to the insanely mixed signals the other man had been sending him not only since the basement incident (Lisa, Lisa, Lisa, his mind chanted, the hidden Cyberwoman, his betrayal), but since the first day he came to work. Up until a month ago, Jack had been what Ianto was doing in private, as well as hiding Lisa, and Ianto wondered if Jack realized how contradictory the statement he so casually made really was, upon reflection. Of course what he did in private was their business, he was certain they all suspected foul play where he was concerned and would for a long time yet. (As for Jack, he would never see him in private again, that little voice reminded him. He'd only been doing Jack in the first place to protect Lisa, anyway, said another, less convincing voice.)

The next morning, Jack appeared at the top of the ladder to his stairs, and didn't even bother feigning surprise at Ianto's presence, dutifully checking the computer screen. "Go home," he said coldly, "I'm giving everyone a day off. I doubt they'll come in, anyway." Bitterly, he attacks the buttons of his shirt, as if each one reflects the accusatory eyes of Owen or Tosh or Gwen, reminding him of how he failed.

"It's their job, sir," Ianto says simply.

"You weren't there, you don't know what happened." The straps of his braces snap into place next, in such a way Ianto decides must be painful (ah, so he's punishing himself unconsciously with pain, he thinks, you'd think a man like him would have learned by now it won't work.).

"No, but I know what its like to have no choice." No choice but to build betrayal upon betrayal until he's no longer sure who he should feel more guilt towards. (Even though feeling guilty towards Lisa sets him up for the forgiveness she can never give him, he knows.)

"There's always a choice," he says unconvincingly, straightening his collar. "Put on the coffee, then, if you're so sure they'll be here as usual."

"They will, sir. This is Torchwood, and they're all familiar with its demands. If they couldn't handle it, they would've left long ago. One little girl lost isn't going to change all that. At worst, Gwen will give you the cold shoulder for a few more days before the next, worse task comes to hand."

"I think that's the most I've heard you say in a long time, Ianto. Keep it up." The hand makes its way casually to his shoulder for the second morning in a row, and he leans into it unconsciously, able to meet Jack's eyes this time instead of throwing a confused glance his way before hiding in the glow of the monitor.

"I'll try my best, sir." Not for the first time, he realizes how much of an impact he has on the captain (beyond the sex, he thinks,) and he offers his best reassuring smile, and it feels a little stronger than it might've the day before.

Jack looks at him curiously for a moment, and lets his hand drop. "I'll expect to see you here late, then?"

"Do I have to brief you on boss-employee protocol again, sir?"

"I believe in this case it would be de-brief," he quips, and for a moment, it feels like his first couple of months in the Hub, flirting with Jack as if it was one of his special skills (and maybe it was, he reflected, he'd certainly gotten quite good at it.).

The moment is broken as Gwen loudly stomps in, shaking her rain soaked jacket and complaining loudly about the weather of Wales, and they snap back to reality, realizing this casual banter isn't okay just yet.

"Exactly my point, sir," he says sadly, and makes his way to the coffee machine.

That afternoon as he snaps shut a tin of biscuits he finds a little post-it attached to the top, _'Right as always, Mr. Jones. What would a captain do without you?' _

'_Lose all faith in humanity, apparently.' _He leaves it on the tin he knows Jack goes into once everyone has left, and although he knows he should've responded with something in a more flippant tone, but a small part of him needs to prove he does more than just serve the coffee and take out the trash, for Jack at least.


End file.
